Disclaimer: I own nada. Except some chocolate pretzels I have with me, but I am going to eat those soon... so...

Wow. I tried ignore this idea as long as I could, but it just kept coming back to haunt me. My apologies.

If you can't take the thought of one of the main characters mortally wounded than this fic ain't for you.

This one's from Logans POV and it's basically M/L (because there is no other DA couple!) Set sometime after freak nation

Alrighty then, here we go:

Fortune's Fool

By Toblerone

Funny how life turns out.

I'm down suddenly, on my back, on the dirt. Well, technically it's pavement, but it is pretty filthy down here – plenty of dirt to go around. But that's not the point no, not the point at all. Because as preoccupied as I tend to be with all the dirt in the world, right now all I can focus on is the crimson coating on my fingers as I pull them away from my abdomen.

Oh crap.

There's noise, there has to be. Shouts, screams, bangs – this is a battle after all. Well, technically it's a bloodbath, but it seems more poetic to call it a battle and, after all, I love poetry. But that's not the point, no, not the point at all. The point is that despite all the glory and carnage of this bloody battle, I can't hear the cries for freedom or the screams of hate. All I can hear is the pounding of blood in my ears. Blood which should be happily flowing through nice little veins and capillaries or pumping through a heart that's been broken so many times that by all rights shouldn't be pumping as strongly as it is... or was until just a few seconds ago.

But alas, now the blood is rushing to, pouring out of the last place I want it to be either rushing to or pouring out of – the gaping hole in my stomach.

It's best not to panic in these situations. I suppose that's how I've made this far: shot in the back – don't panic; thrown from a building – don't panic; they've got you tied up in a shack – don't panic; you've lost the speech – don't panic; she's smirking, she kissed you, you love her, she's leaving, she's shaking, she's dieing, she loves him, she doesn't love you, she never did...

Don't panic

But that's not the point, no, not the point at all.

The point... the point is... I think this is it. I think that I've run out of second chances, I think that this is it the end. I think that after thirty two years, a blown-out spinal cord, and a few stolen kisses, now I've finally fallen for the last time… and I'm never getting back up. So I guess there really is nothing to panic about… I mean what's the point of worrying about what I'm going to do next when... I'm really never going to be doing anything ever again.

I'm going to die.

Shit, no, no, no, I cant – NO – I have things to do, things to finish… none of them come to mind at the moment, but god damn it, I know they're important. The down trodden! Yes! I've got to help them, I have to save them! That's my purpose, my calling! It can't end like this!

Shit, I can't breathe. I can barely move. There's nothing I can do anymore, I've been shot down – literally. Jesus it hurts.

Fuck, did it hurt this much last time? I can't remember. Man, talk about irony – here's an event that completely changes my life and I cannot remember the details. Wait, what details? There was dirt, then pain, then blood, then blackness... that was about it. This is lasting a lot longer then before...heh... maybe I'm just used to be shot at...

Somewhere the Gods are laughing how clichéd this all is. It's all been done before, the scarred mortal bleeding for the indifferent goddess. Hear ye, hear ye, The Great Eyes Only dies today in the filthy, bloody streets of terminal city – where he fought for a woman who never loved him. And he, the poor fool, during his last hour (couple of minutes?) of life can think of nothing but her. The mere mortal can only look around and pray that he may lay eyes upon her and be entranced by her beauty one last time. However, she is not in his line of sight, indeed she is nowhere to be found. And (get this) he is wondering if she is safe, wherever she may be.

Suddenly the fool spots her and with what little air his lungs have left, he wastes a gasp. Why such a waste? Well, like all sad adoring men, he is left breathless by her.

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

Quoting Shakespeare now? Ha! It's been done.

I can't help myself, alright, I can't. I've tried to let her go, to forget. I've lain awake at night telling myself that she isn't worth losing sleep over. I've stared at computer willing my brain to focus on the screen in front of me and to stop thinking about her – about where she is, how she doing, who she is with.

"Stop it," I tell myself, "stop thinking about her – stop thinking about her with him."

But I can't stop.

I thought I knew what jelousy was. Max was not my first unrequited love. Ex-girlfriends often moved on before I was ready, I had pined for taken women long before she had even escaped into the world.

I had no idea what jealousy was. I know now. I know jealousy is rage and nausea and regret and rage and envy – all given brass knuckles – beating the shit out of your soul for every minute of every day. Its seeing them, hearing about them, thinking about them. It's consuming and relentless and it nags and laughs at you as often as it can.

I hate it. I hate what it makes me – that guy. The asshole ex-boyfriend that won't leave her alone, that demands the new boyfriend take care of properly, that drinks and drinks until her roommate has to carry his ass out the bar back to his room.

Oh, what a bitter thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

I have tried, very hard, to stop it – the jealousy and everything that comes with it. But mere mortals tend to be idiots when it comes to love, and when someone else has what they want, so badly, they tend to lose it.

Well this is wonderful, my last moments are upon me and all I can think about is how much I—

Oh no.

She's spotted me.

Her eyes go wide, she—

No Max, no! Do not come over here. There are bullets flying all over the place and they would love to take out the leader of this transgenic rebellion. If you move from your current position—

Oh well, she never listens to me anyway.

Well there it is. There's another chapter almost finished, just needs some tweaking.

Tell me what you think. Hope it wasn't too bad.